


Life's Treasures

by WritingCreatingStorytelling



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCreatingStorytelling/pseuds/WritingCreatingStorytelling
Summary: Requested by anon on Tumblr:“Can you write a Chris Evans imagine of him proposing to you in Boston? You’re from California but he knew that you would move out there to settle down with him.”





	Life's Treasures

Marriage had never been a topic you and Chris shied away from. In fact, it was discussed openly from the get go. Just like any other committed couple, it was important to not only you, but to Chris as well to know where you both stood in the relationship. Not long after becoming exclusive, you spent hours upon hours sharing your dreams about your potential future children, and a house spacious enough for a big family, nothing too extravagant where you’d have to hire help, but decent sized bedrooms and a large kitchen and living room to fill with hearty meals and laughter and love and lifelong memories you’d both treasure.

The tricky thing was you were a Californian – born and raised –, while Chris was… well, a forever Bostonian at heart – no secret there. That’d been one thing neither one of you brought to light when discussing your future. Until one day…

In your reverie, you could time travel back there without much effort. It’d been a warm October day where you’d both been free from responsibilities; a day to seize the moment and take advantage of the sunny skies after a miserable, dreary few days of rain. That meant you were soaking up the sun on a private beach that you’d been sneaking to since you were a teen. (The old, retired couple that owned the property were ironically from the East Coast and left the beach house vacant from Autumn to Spring every year.)

“How opposed are you to moving to Boston?”

The question hadn’t sent a shock to your system like anyone would expect. Your lips had curled into a smile, your head that’d been resting on his thigh while you took a break on the sand from frolicking in the water tilted towards him. “Why, are you planning on whisking me away?” You’d teased.

Chris had let out an adorable chuckle, jerking his leg to jostle your head in reply since his hands had been given the mission to keep him upright, fingers rooted deep in the sand behind his back. “What if I said yes?”

“Depends, _are_ you saying yes?”

He’d rolled his eyes with a light laugh. It was a silly game you played – answer a question with a question; a game Chris wasn’t all that fond of. “Yes,” he’d said, putting an end to it before it (mainly, _you_ ) spiraled out of control. Quickly sobering, he’d added, “I mean, I’m not saying I would hate to stay here…”

Chris went on to voice his openness to the idea of raising a family in the neighborhood you grew up in, all the while you kept quiet, too busy pondering to actively listen to his rambling. No matter what he’d been yapping about, you knew what he really preferred was to pack up and make the move back home to Massachusetts. It was the place he felt the most normal, the most himself, being surrounded by his family and best friends.

Honestly, it would sadden you to leave this place. You were a California girl to the core. Surfing, beach nights, and all the cliched things from that ubiquitous Katy Perry song – it was what you knew; it’d been only home you’d ever known. Until Chris, that is. From the start, you knew he was someone special, and in little time he’d become your constant, your new home. And so, in your heart, your home was with Chris, no matter what zip code you’d print on future forms.

Your eyes had squinted as the sun repositioned in the sky, his big head no longer shielding the harsh rays. “No, I’m not opposed to it.” And it’d been the complete truth.

“Are you sure?” He’d questioned, brow ticked up, studying your expression for any sign of doubt.

“I’m sure,” you had giggled, rolling onto your knees and crawling up to place a tender kiss on his smiling lips. “I just want to be with you, Chris.”

Chris had exhaled, the relief releasing the tension in his shoulders, and rested his forehead against yours. “I love you, ya know that?”

You had grinned. “You’d better. I love you, too.” A thoughtful look had flashed across your face, before you’d teased, “So, should I start packing? Because, _fuck_ , it’s gunna take my lazy ass a gazillion years to get all my shit in boxes.”

The contentment in your heart and soul from the way he’d shaken with mirth, eyes crinkled, head tipped back, was unforgettable. “When the times comes, babe, I promise I’ll zap your procrastinating ass in action,” he had vowed.

Fast forward to present time. December. In frigid cold Boston. Where you swear not even Jon Snow’s bulky attire would be able to keep you warm. Still, the stubborn week-old snow hanging on the tree branches and bushes was a beauty to your ignorance.

“It’s so pretty around here,” you commented on a long, content sigh. You’d just spent the day at his mother’s, playing catch up with his family before Chris persuaded you to take a drive. He loved driving around town, admiring the Christmas lights and the over-the-top decorations; it’d been a favorite childhood tradition, and he’d fallen into his routine where he’d pretend to be the official Master Judge of Christmas Lights. Sure, he was a complete dork, but you humored him and played along.

Chris hummed in agreement, and glanced in your direction as he pulled up to a stop sign. He smiled, watching as your gloved fingers wiggled in front of the vent that was set to the highest setting, the heat that was trapped in the car surely stifling him. “Warm enough?”

You snorted, fully aware he was joshing you. “It’ll do for now.”

Turning on the signal, he cut the wheel and made the sharp turn into a narrow road one handedly. You made a mental note to invest in a four-wheel drive once you began shopping around for a new car. Driving your rear-wheel drive in these winter conditions would be disastrous, no doubt.

“You might want to start thinkin’ about buying a new car if you want to make it out alive in the New England winters.”

“I was just thinkin’ that,” you confessed, a light chuckle passing between the two of you. “Or, I mean, I could have you just chauffer me around.”

“Ha, you wish.” He poked your side and grinned when you squirmed away, swatting at his hand. “I can’t wait to see how much you’re going to resent me.”

“What,” you started, noting in a fleeting thought the neighborhood he had turned into wasn’t as well established like others, “for moving over here?”

“Yeah. You’ve barely made it a day, and the tips of your fingers were already turning purple.”

“They were not,” you disagreed, a giggle coming out shaky as the tires caught the brunt of the gravel. You grabbed hold of the door handle when Chris jerked the wheel to miss a massive dirt hole in the middle of the road, a murmured apology from his side of the car reaching your ears. “Jesus,” you said, the jarring of the car once more stealing your breath. “Where the hell are we?”

“You’ll see,” he said, a secretive feel to his answer. You let it go for the time being.

Instead, you said, “Question-”

“Answer.”

“Let’s say hypothetically they were frostbitten and I had to get them chopped off…”

“Okay, they don’t _chop_ your fingers off.”

“Humor me,” you harrumphed. “That’s what _hypothetically_ means, goof. Would you still love me if I only had half my fingers?”

You waited a second, watching his face contort as if he was contemplating life’s greatest challenge. “Well, if we’re talking _hypothetically…_ meh,” he ended up saying, then lifted his arm to shield his head from your freakishly strong and hard smacks. “Hey! I’m driving! I’m driving!”

“Asshole,” you muttered, ceasing your attack and straightening in your seat. “I hope karma comes to bite you in the ass.”

Chris barked a laugh, and it was sad, really, just how much a single sound could make you giggle. If you could, you’d bottle up his incredible, infectious laugh to keep for all eternity.

Finally, you reached your destination. Wherever that was.

When you watched Chris switch the gear to park and move to unbuckle his seatbelt, the confusion resurfaced. “Where are we?” You asked after you took a quick survey of your surroundings, which was inconclusive thanks to the late hour and the missing street lights. Not even a single porch light was on.

“This,” Chris began, twisting to face you, manifesting signs of extreme anxiety, “is a new subdivision.”

You eyed him suspiciously, your brows furrowing together. “Okay…”

“I, uh-” He scratched behind his ear, then rolled his eyes at himself. “I sort of know the developer, or Carly does, actually, and…”

His inability to spit it out wasn’t helping the funny feeling that’d started to form and grow rapidly in your tummy. “Chris, what is it?” You asked, concern filling your voice. Chris let out a puff of breath, his eyes flitting to where you had covered his trembling hand with yours.

“It’s ours,” he blurted, his attention jerking back up to witness your reaction. The one he saw was one of utter puzzlement. “The land,” he clarified. “It’s ours.”

As the words sank in, your eyes lit with surprise. “Oh.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Oh, wow. Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, the uncertainty evident in his voice. “I mean, that is, if you want it to be. I haven’t signed any papers, but I’ve already been approved. And Tracy, the real estate agent, said adding your name shouldn’t be a problem. Uh, this is – this is the last lot on this street, so we’d be at the dead end. It’s enough wiggle room from the neighbors, too, so I was thinkin’ it’d be wise to set up a security gate, or somethin’. And as far as the house plans, I mean, they’re not really set, so we’d have the final say in the proofs and construction and everythin’. If you wanted, we could schedule a time to-”

Your lips covering his without warning halted his rambling. You struggled for a moment to rid the contraption of your own seatbelt, both of you laughing in between soft and persistent kisses. Once you were free, you climbed over to settle on his lap, and cradled his sweet face, lips glued together.

“I love you,” you repeated over and over, moving from his mouth to pepper kisses along his jawline, cheek, nose, temple… wherever your mouth landed, bringing him laughter when you nuzzled your face against his beard.

“Are you happy?”  

You outright giggled, feeling the shiver that went through him from your hot breath being so close to his ear, your cheek still pressed against his. “Incandescently so.” Suddenly, you gasped and pulled back to meet his bright eyes that were dancing from your happiness. “I know shit about interior design. We’re going to need a shit ton of those Home & Design magazines.”

Chris laughed. He squeezed your waist, the grin on his face matching yours. “I’m sure my mom has a collection of them somewhere.”

You wished it wasn’t so dark and cold out so you could explore the grounds and make a few mental notes of measurements for this and that, and how big of a pool you’d be able to get away with. “Oh, my god. We _need_ a pool. And maybe a hot tub. Oh! And a cute garden. Oh, my god, can we have our own secret garden?! How many acres of land is this? And how far in is the house going to sit?”

Another amused laugh bubbled out of Chris at how ardent you became in the blink of an eye about designing gardens, and pools, and—

“You know what I’ve always wanted? A tire swing! I’ve always liked how classic and cute it looked in this kid’s backyard that I used to play with.”

Arching a brow, Chris said, “A tire swing? Really?”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, smacking your hands down on his chest with enthusiasm, eyes shining with utter excitement. “It reminds me of simpler times!”

He chuckled, then dotted a simple kiss on the tip of your frosty, red nose. “If you want a tire swing, then a tire swing we’ll have.”

Eyes wide, you listed, “And a big pool. And a hot tub. And a secret garden.”

“Yes,” he instantly agreed, a full-on belly laugh shaking him. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Whatever I want?” You asked, brows raised high, a mischievous grin teasing your lips. “Those are some dangerous words, Evans. Are you sure you trust me enough for that?”

“Yeah, of course I trust you,” he whispered, fingers pulling you closer subconsciously. His demeanor had changed promptly.

Something in the air shifted, what exactly, you had no idea. He became nervous all over again, unable to hold your gaze longer than five seconds. (Literally. You counted. Three times.)

“What?” You asked, questioning eyes darting between his.

His fingers dug into you while he seemed to be internally pepping himself up. Less than a minute later, he finally found his voice. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, have somethin’ else to say.”

You nodded, encouragingly. “Okay.”

Part of you knew he was about to dive into a speech, a speech that could possibly alter your life, more than it already had with the revelation that you were going to build a house together.

That knowing part of you had been right.

“Before you, I thought I had a pretty good self-awareness. The good, and the bad, y’know? But you,” he paused to sweep his tongue across his lower lip, his voice turning thick, “you’ve taught me more about myself than anyone, including me, could have. You’ve stuck with me through some of my shit that I had to work through. You’ve been the greatest support system.” You stroked his face lovingly, sniffling when tears gathered in your eyes, mirroring his own.

“There’s nowhere else I rather be than by your side, Chris.”

He smiled, pressing into your palm. “You’re an incredible, incredible woman, and _gahd_ how’d I get so lucky to have you?” You opened your mouth to claim to be the lucky one, but Chris refused to let you get a word in. “I can’t even begin to express how ecstatic I am that you’re happy about this, about starting a home together, building a house and our future together… and I’m just so fuckin’ grateful that you’re okay with moving all the way over here when your whole life is back in California.”

Shaking your head, ever so softly, you said, “Bullshit. My life is with you, Chris.”

His eyes fluttered when you leaned forward to place a healing kiss over the lines between his brows. “And mine is with you, too.” His lips twitched into a warm smile, as the blue pools of his eyes revealed themselves to you.

“I love you so much, baby,” he said on a rushed breath. “My love for you is transcendent; limitless.” Your heart was beating wild, thundering in your chest. You didn’t need to tell him that your love for him was the same; he already knew. He could see it in the way you looked at him, in the way you were always there, in the way your gloved thumb was gliding over his brow in a soothing caress.

“With all of life’s uncertainties, and all the challenges up ahead, the one thing I want you to be certain of is that I will always want _you_.” He tilted his head to the side, gesturing towards the land – _your land_ –, and added, “ _This_ ,” before ending it with a gentle touch of his forehead to yours, “ _Us_.”

Throughout his heartfelt speech, you’d shockingly kept the sobs at bay, but when Chris stretched out an arm to pop open the glove compartment and came back to present to you a black, velvet box, you could no longer control the emotion that slipped past your quivering lips.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered, voice full of emotion, heart galloping wilder.

Chris wiped a happy tear that had escaped the corner of his eye on his shoulder, his gaze fixed on you. “So, I have a ring. Obviously…” You laughed at that, wanting so much to capture his sheepish grin with your eager mouth. “And I was hoping you’d do me the honors of forever being my partner, my best friend, my _wife…_ ”

You could barely contain yourself, ready to burst from happiness.

“Will you marry me?”

Finally, you could gift Chris one of the greatest treasures of his life: a resounding _yes!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading xx


End file.
